


The Gatsby Gang Storms Area 51

by EnsignAdano



Category: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald
Genre: (those are the other raiders), (well except for tom because nobody likes tom), Aliens, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, Everyone is friends, Gen, Humor, Inspired By Tumblr, Memes, area 51, natsby - Freeform, they call it tomfoolery because tom buchanan is a fool, this is probably the dumbest thing i've ever written, yeet tom into the sun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 23:35:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20714423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnsignAdano/pseuds/EnsignAdano
Summary: On a hot September night in Nevada, accompanied by millions of other memelords, Nick Carraway, Jay Gatsby, and Jordan Baker all decide to storm Area 51, for their own various reasons.It doesn't go exactly as planned.





	The Gatsby Gang Storms Area 51

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe this is my first contribution to the Gatsby fandom. I've been firmly entrenched in The Great Gatsby Hell since February and I wanted my first real foray into creating works for it to be something deep and meaningful, and instead it's a ridiculous crack!fic about Area 51 (on the day of the raid, no less!). I'm sure F. Scott Fitzgerald is rolling in his grave. And for those of you on AO3 who know me from my Star Trek fanfic Shining Star, this is a _lot_ less serious than that.
> 
> So why am I writing something so ridiculous, you ask? Well, it was inspired by [this](https://ask-the-great-gatsby.tumblr.com/post/186298871856/in-light-of-recent-alien-related-events-some) post by ask-the-great-gatsby, and the-jay-gaytsby's subsequent reblog of "Someone write this into a ficlet- 10/10 would read" (which I am linking to at the bottom, because the reblog chain before it contains spoilers). You can read the first bit of this, my response ficlet, [here](https://bohemian-rhapsody-in-blue.tumblr.com/post/187847972315/ask-and-ye-shall-receive-my-friend) (I used to be mayas--musings on Tumblr, but now I'm bohemian-rhapsody-in-blue). I'll also link to other elements that inspired this story, but that contain spoilers, at the bottom.
> 
> Also, a note -- this is set in not only a modern AU, but a modern AU in which the Area 51 raid goes off exactly as the memelords planned it. No Alienstock, no weird feud between the creators, no one getting arrested for urinating at the gates, just a bunch of ridiculous Gen Zs with morbid (yet wholesome!) curiosity and nothing to lose.

“Remind me why we’re doing this,” said Jordan, swiping a lock of her dark bob out of her face in the sweltering Nevada heat, which was not at all helped by the throng of millions of people surrounding them.

“Well, I’m here because Jay made me come,” said Nick, “and it didn’t sound _entirely_ stupid.”

“Yes it did,” Jordan said.

“Yes it did,” conceded Nick.

“And Jay?” Jordan said, turning to him. “Why did you drag us out here?”

“So we can _see dem aliens_!” said Gatsby and another, unknown voice, in chorus.

Nick whirled around and came face-to-face with the source of the voice. “Meyer Wolfsheim? What are _you_ doing here?”

Wolfsheim shrugged. “Hey, if a man wants to get dat sweet alien ass, who are others to deny him?”

“You couldn’t make it to Jay’s funeral, but you made it to _this?!_” Nick demanded.

“Easy, old sport,” Jay said, putting a calming hand on Nick’s shoulder. Under his breath, he muttered, “It’s not like I stayed dead, anyway…”

Nick glared at Wolfsheim with barely contained fury, his vision practically coated in red. “Get out.”

Jay, although doing his best to calm Nick, also looked decidedly unimpressed with Wolfsheim. The man looked disappointed, but scurried away nevertheless.

Jordan looked around. “Hey, is Tom not coming? Not that I care about him,” she added, “but I saw his signature on the pledge, so I was wondering…”

“I guess he signed and just never showed up?” Nick said.

“Wouldn’t put it past him,” Jay muttered, and Nick silently agreed.

Jordan nodded. “I brought it up with Daisy the other day and she didn’t know anything about it. She didn’t seem interested, though.”

“That’s all right,” Jay said. “I think we have a pretty solid plan of attack anyway.” He gestured at each of them in turn. “Jordan will take pictures of all the crazy stuff the government’s hiding…”

Jordan nodded, holding up a disposable camera she had purchased the week before for this very occasion. (“In case the government’s tracking the camera on my phone,” she had explained, to which Nick had merely nodded.)

“I’ll steal at least one alien for us, if not more,” Jay continued, “and Nick will be able to translate its Alien-Speak!” He gestured towards Nick with a dazzling smile on his face.

Nick cursed internally. One night, while very drunk, he had joked that he had taken a semester of Alien-Speak at Yale and that it had been quite a popular elective there. Jay had somehow actually believed him, and in the days thereafter had hinged many of the group’s plans for the raid on Nick’s alleged fluency in a fictional language. All this time, Nick had never had the heart to tell Jay that he had been joking, especially not when Jay flashed that radiant smile. And at this point, it would be too awkward for him to back out.

“You know Alien-Speak?” asked Jordan, glancing at Nick with mild interest.

Nick sighed. “Yes.”

“Say something in it,” she demanded.

Nick let out a string of absolute guttural gibberish. Jay looked delighted, Jordan looked satisfied, and Nick despairingly wondered how he ever let his joke come this far.

“So”—Jay checked his watch—“we still have a few minutes left before the actual raid is scheduled to happen. What do you guys want to do until then?”

“Well, I brought snacks!” said Nick, desperate to redeem himself after the Alien-Speak debacle. He reached into his backpack and produced a plastic bag filled to the brim with store-bought chips, cookies, and cheese puffs. He took out a bag of tortilla chips, ripped it open, and held it out to Jay, who took a chip with a grateful smile.

Jordan rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “You are _such_ the mom friend.”

“And I wear that title like a badge of honor,” replied Nick.

“So, besides eating Nick’s delicious chips,” said Jay between crunches, nodding at Nick, who beamed with pride, “what are we going to do until the raid actually begins?”

“If we’re going to stick with the theme of my being the mom friend,” said Nick, “I have some games we can play on my phone—“

“No!” insisted Jordan.

Nick furrowed his brow. “No?”

“What if the government is tracking our phones?” she said urgently.

“Jordan, I think if the government were to get involved, they would have done something a long time ago.”

Meanwhile, Jay had stepped a little distance away from the two of them and was looking very uncomfortable. When Nick looked over in that direction, every illegal thing Jay had ever done in his life flashed through his mind—it was quite long, for a flash—and he decided that talking about the government could wait.

“Okay, then, let’s play a different game,” he said. “Let’s, er…let’s play: What Are We Going to Name the Alien or Aliens We Steal?”

“I’m naming mine Mitochondria,” said Jordan.

“Mito-_what?!_” Jay exclaimed, all traces of anxiety over illicit activities of the past seeming to have vanished.

“Connie for short,” Jordan said.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“You’re seriously going to name your alien after the powerhouse of the cell?” asked Nick.

She shrugged. “Yes. What’s wrong with that?”

“They may not even _have_ mitochondria!” said Nick. “They’re aliens! We don’t know their biology!”

“It would be weirder to name them that if they _did_ have it,” Jordan replied.

Nick started to answer, but stopped. Something about her crazy argument almost sounded right.

He looked into her impassive face, the face of a woman who had clearly long since lost the last fuck she had to give, and decided to just shake his head and change the subject. “Jay, what are you going to name _your_ alien?”

“I don’t know, old sport,” said Jay. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while.” Then his face lit up—“Do you know any good names in Alien-Speak?”

“Uh…” Nick stammered. “We…we didn’t really learn names in the class. Just, er, just grammar and stuff.”

Jay’s face fell. “Oh.”

“That’s okay,” said Nick. “Maybe the perfect name will strike us when we actually have the alien in our arms.”

Jay smiled at Nick’s reassurance and placed a hand on his shoulder. Nick relaxed into his comforting touch, and the two men looked into each others’ eyes for a moment, not saying a word but nevertheless conveying a mutual feeling of deep, true understanding.

“I’m gonna name _my_ alien Arnold Rothstein!” came a loud, unknown voice from behind them, jarring them out of their reverie.

“Go _away,_ Wolfsheim!” Nick shouted.

Jay nodded in agreement. “Go join the Kyles or the rock-throwers or something.”

“The rock-throwers!” Meyer Wolfsheim shook his head in disgust. “I’d like to believe I have more class than that.” As he walked away he called over his shoulder, “I will be with the _Naruto runners,_ thank you very much!”

Jordan rolled her eyes. “Arnold Rothstein is a dumb name anyway.”

“Mitochondria,” Nick reminded her pointedly.

“Mitochondria’s a good name, you’re just a coward.”

“Ex_cuse_ me?” Nick said in mock offense. “I am _not_ a coward!” He turned around. “Jay, tell her I’m not a coward!”

But Jay wasn’t listening. He was looking intently at his watch as the seconds ticked away until the scheduled time of the raid, brimming with excitement. Nick gasped and elbowed Jordan as he saw that it was almost time for the moment of glory. The crowd, too, seemed to be holding their breath in anticipation; a hush had fallen nearly completely over the mob of people.

Nick took three chips out of the bag he’d brought and handed one each to Jay and Jordan, keeping one for himself. He held his out to the other two, as if giving a toast, speaking in a murmur so as not to disturb the anticipatory quiet of the crowd—“To us being all together in Nevada, and Jay not, y’know, being dead.”

“To us finding dem aliens,” said Jay.

“To us doing crazy, stupid stuff,” said Jordan.

Nick smiled. “To us,” he said.

“To us,” said the other two, and touched their chips to Nick’s.

As the three of them ate their chips, Nick faintly registered the sound of a countdown coming from someone with an unusually loud voice somewhere in the crowd. It grew louder and louder as everyone else gradually joined in—“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

“Seven! Six! Five!” Jay shouted, pumping his fist in the air with each word.

Nick, against his better instincts that told him this was an absolutely ridiculous and nonsensical, plan in the first place, could feel his own excitement mounting as the shouting built to a crescendo. He grabbed Jordan and Jay’s hands in either one of his, and the three of them shouted, “Four! Three! Two! One!”…

The crowd surged forward with an ear-splitting cheer that Nick didn’t think was very practical if their goal was to not be caught. Still, in his sheer adrenaline, he couldn’t help but join in.

“Pick a battle cry and RUN!!!” Jay shouted, plunging into the foray of people as Jordan and Nick followed.

“FOR DEM ALIENS!!!” yelled Jay.

“FOR THE HELL OF IT!!!” yelled Jordan.

“I DIDN’T KNOW I HAD TO PICK A BATTLE CRY!!!” yelled Nick.

“STOP!!!” yelled a booming, unknown voice.

It carried over the frantic yells of thousands of fellow raiders, unexpected and shocking enough to actually carry out its purpose and stop them in their tracks.

“We know you’re all here to raid Area 51!” announced the source of the voice, which turned out to be a tall, imposing police officer with a large mustache. He was standing at the front of the crowd, blocking the back entrance to the facility. “And we are here to put a _stop_ to it!”

His warning hung like a cloud over the now-silent crowd.

“You can’t stop us!” cried one brave, intrepid raider.

“Oh, yes, we certainly can,” the police officer returned.

“How did you even know about the raid?” shouted another person from an indeterminate location in the crowd.

“It went viral, dipwad!” came another person’s voice from approximately the same location and distance. “How could he _not_ know about it?!” And from that location, there came a sound of a person being smacked on the back of the head.

“It did go viral, yes,” said the officer. “A major oversight on your part. But we have other, more exact, more _sophisticated_ references than a mere Facebook page and an influx of memes. We have other ways to find you foolish lawbreakers and track you all down, and put an end to this tomfoolery once and for all.”

He chuckled a little, seemingly enjoying every second of his dramatic speech. He then employed a dramatic pause, of which he also seemed to be enjoying every second. It was as if he had gone to police school for the express purpose of making hammed-up, Disney-villain speeches.

“So?” cried one voice. “Get on with it! What are you gonna do to stop us?”

“I have..._a list of names!_” the officer proclaimed, triumphantly holding up a large stack of typewritten paper.

The crowd was silent.

“Oh yeah?” came a voice from a far-off edge of the crowd. “Prove it! We don’t know if that’s a real list of names!”

“Oh, it certainly is, Mr.—“ the officer consulted his list— “Lucas Wilkerson, age 27, who works in IT in Athens, Georgia.”

Lucas Wilkerson, age 27, was silent for a second, then bolted out of the crowd. The sounds of his sobs slowly faded as he ran away.

The crowd exploded with apprehensive murmurs. Meanwhile, Nick frantically looked around to see if he had lost his friends in the crowd. Jay was right by his side, thank God, but Jordan was nowhere to be seen. He hoped she was okay and that she wouldn’t be the next to be singled out by the weirdly vindictive police officer. Although if she was, he doubted she’d be too perturbed. She wasn’t ever truly perturbed by much.

“Hey, I got a list of names too!” shouted a girl, holding up her phone, which was open to the list of Facebook users who had signed the original pledge. “You ain’t special!”

The officer shook his head in disgust. “That’s not the same thing. My sources have compiled a list of even those who did not sign the Facebook pledge, and we have information far more in-depth than what you can get from a silly public Facebook profile. For instance—“ he pointed at the girl who had spoken out— “we have information on you, Jaden Rachelle Young, junior at University of Missouri–Kansas City who drove here in your boyfriend’s car after he broke up with you and listened to nothing but Lana Del Rey on the entire 19-hour ride, until you showed up here at 11:47 PM on Thursday, September 19. You learned about the event via Tara Bowman, a junior majoring in sociology, who lives in the dorm across from you and whom you secretly find incredibly annoying. You have type 2 diabetes, you got a 79 on your psychology exam yesterday, and your Social Security number is—“

“Oh my god, shut up shut up _shut up!!!_” cried Jaden, pressing her hands to her ears.

The officer _tsk-tsked_. “Now, that’s not a very respectful way to talk to a police officer, is it?”

Before Jaden could answer, another woman spoke up, peering at the officer through her bright purple cats-eye glasses. “Wait a second!” she exclaimed. “You’re not a real officer! I work for the Lincoln County police department and I’ve never seen you in my life!”

The officer nodded solemnly. “You’re right that I’m not often seen around here. But you can rest assured I certainly am a real officer.” He held up his badge, and the crowd’s oohs and aahs drowned out his muttered, “You wouldn’t believe what people give you with enough money. Like, you guys literally aren’t rich enough to believe it.”

Nick frowned. Maybe the others hadn’t heard the addition, but he had. He gathered up his courage, took a deep breath, and yelled with all his might, “Then who are you? Really?”

“I’m glad you asked,” said the officer, and his face split into an evil grin as he grasped the end of his large, bushy mustache and ripped it off to reveal…a smaller, pencil-thin mustache. On a face that looked eerily familiar.

“_Tom?!_” Nick and Jay shouted in unison.

Tom Buchanan let out an evil laugh. 

“What is he doing here?” Nick whispered furiously, turning to Jay. “What kind of nerve does he have, ratting us out? He signed the Facebook pledge and everything!”

“Well, it wouldn’t exactly be unusual for him to betray us,” said Jay, rolling his eyes in disgust. Nick nodded—he had to admit, he was right.

“Would you like me to continue with the names?” asked Tom. Without waiting for an answer, he flipped to the top of his stack of pages and began reading off in the same big, booming voice. “At the top of my list are Jay Gatsby and Nicholas Carraway—“

Jay and Nick simultaneously tensed up.

“—followed by Jordan Baker, Meyer Wolfsheim, er, Owl-Eyes?” Under his breath, he muttered, “Is that, like, their actual full name?” He shrugged. “Guess he's one of those annoying avant-grade types.” And with that, he switched back to his booming crowd voice and read on.

Jay and Nick looked at each other and, in unison, said the same thing: “RUN!!”

Evidently many others had had the same idea they had, for the two of them were caught up in a large mass of people all trying to make a quick and surreptitious exit, with the combined effect being that none of their exits were quick or surreptitious at all.

“They’re getting away!” roared Tom. “Catch them! Ask them if their names are—“ And then he continued reading from his list.

Nick ran as fast as his legs could carry him in the crowd, which was not very far. He was grasping on to Jay’s hand for dear life, afraid of what would happen if he let go. He’d already lost Jordan—he didn’t want to lose Jay too. In response, Jay squeezed Nick’s hand tightly, a simple reassurance of _I’m here._ It was Nick’s lifeline in his panic.

But as the two of them blended in with the crowd, indistinguishable from any of the other morbidly curious memelords, as they made their way to Jay’s car in the parking lot, Nick realized the true advantage of so many thousands of people having come to raid Area 51: they couldn’t stop all of them.

The pair finally made it to Jay’s car, and they ducked inside, taking a second to catch their breaths and let their heart rates return to normal.

“Well, that was a bust,” Nick said as soon as they’d calmed down. “And all because of _stupid Tom._” He kicked the glove compartment in front of him in frustration.

“I know, old sport,” said Jay. “I’m sorry.” Then he perked up—“But hey, it wasn’t a _total bust!_”

“What?” said Nick.

“Look what I got!” Jay said in a suspicious singsong. With a wide grin practically cracking his face in half, he dug into his jacket for a bit, searching, until his hand grasped something. Triumphantly, he held up what was inside: a small green…being. Nick couldn’t think of any other way to describe it. It was vaguely humanoid, with a bulbous head, a body, and four limbs, but otherwise it looked totally otherworldly, almost alie—

The realization hit Nick all at once.

“You actually _stole_ an _alien_?!” he managed to choke out.

“Yep!” Jay said, smiling proudly. “It was part of our original plan, right?”

The alien emitted a series of low-pitched noises that seemed to convey confusion and dismay. Jay practically bounced up and down in his seat with excitement. “Oh, oh, he just said something! What did he say, old sport?”

But Nick had more pressing matters on his mind than fake translations of alien speech. “How?” he exclaimed. “How on earth did you manage to steal it? I was holding your hand the whole time! You never left my sight!”

Jay lowered his voice, speaking to Nick in a conspiratorial whisper. “Honestly, I’m not sure how I did it myself!”

Nick put his head in his hands. “Jay…”

“What?” Jay asked. “Are you worried about it being illegal? Might I remind you, old sport, this whole operation was illegal, and _you’re_ the one who agreed to go on it with me.” He gave Nick a playful elbow jab, which Nick did not reciprocate.

“But this…” Nick said, gesturing at the alien. “This is, like, seven different kinds of illegal!”

Jay raised his eyebrows. “Well, first of all, we’re not the only people to have stolen government property.” He gestured towards Jordan, who was walking towards their car in her trademark jaunty stride that seemed to have a little more bounce in it than usual, and Nick sighed in relief—she was okay, she hadn’t been caught. As she got closer, though, Nick saw the reason for the extra skip in her step—Jordan was holding an alien of her own, a small orange being with a bulbous head and big eyes that seemed to contain every color and no color all at once.

“This is Mitochondria,” she said, holding it up, “and I love it more than I love ninety percent of people.”

Mitochondria the alien made a series of high, cheerful chirping sounds.

Jordan grinned and set it down on the ground so it could stand on its own, then patted its head—“Come on, Connie”—and went on her merry way. Connie trotted behind her on its long, skinny legs, looking up at her devotedly.

“That was more emotion from her than I’ve seen all year,” said Nick.

Jay smiled. “See? This is a _good_ thing. We’re doing a service!”

“No, Jay,” Nick said, “we—we’re really not.”

The alien made a sound resembling an exasperated sigh, or maybe that was just Nick’s imagination.

Jay plonked it on the dashboard, ignoring its sounds of protest, then put the car in drive and navigated towards the open stretches of Nevada roads, which only got Nick’s fears going again.

“This is serious, Jay!” he said. “We could be prosecuted! I’ll have a criminal record! I’ve never had a criminal record before! Well, except for that time in school when I stole John Peele’s pencil and the teacher sent me to the principal’s office—but he deserved it! He was being a jerk! He called me a scuttlebutt, and I wasn’t even really sure what that was, and I’m still not sure, but I just—“

“Calm down, old sport,” Jay said, removing one hand from the steering wheel and placing it on Nick’s shoulder. “We’re not going to get prosecuted. At least, I’m not.”

“How?” Nick demanded. “We stole government property, and thanks to Tom, the officials know exactly who we are!”

“No they don’t,” Jay said, and there was a glint in his eyes that made Nick nervous. “Or, at least, they don’t know who I am.”

“They don’t?” Nick asked cautiously. “Why not?”

Jay’s eyes were shining. “I never legally changed my name to Jay Gatsby. In the eyes of the law, I’m still James Gatz.”

Nick stopped short, then let out an incredulous little laugh. “And Tom doesn’t know this?”

“Well, it looks like he’s at least forgotten,” Jay said. “The name he reported was Jay Gatsby. The law can do nothing to Jay Gatsby! They can never find me!”

“Um, even with the name change, I think they’ll be able to find you from your reputation alo—“

Jay pressed a finger to Nick’s lips. “Ssshhhh.”

Nick laughed a little at Jay’s gesture, allowing himself to relax a little.

Jay stood there looking triumphant for a second; then a terrible realization seemed to cross his mind. “But…Nick! They’ll find _you!_”

Slowly, Nick broke out into a real grin. “No, I just remembered something. They won’t. At least, technically not—as you say—in the eyes of the law.”

“But why, old sport?” said Jay, still looking nervous, almost more so than Nick had been earlier. “The name Tom gave them was perfectly corr—“

“My name isn’t Nicholas.”

Jay blinked at him slowly. “It’s not?”

“Nope,” said Nick. “They said ‘Nicholas Carraway,’ but Nick isn’t short for Nicholas. Never has been, never will be.”

“Then what’s it short for?” Jay asked, furrowing his brow in confusion. “Nikola? Nikita?”

“Nothing,” said Nick.

“Nothing? How can ‘Nick’ be short for ‘noth’—_ohhh._” He looked over at him. “You mean to tell me that your name is actually just Nick? Nick Carraway? As in, that’s what it says on your birth certificate?”

Nick nodded.

“And Tom doesn’t know this?”

Another nod.

“So the law can’t catch us?”

“Well, I mean, technically I guess it can…”

“God,” Jay said, shaking his head, “this is too much to process. I mean, for God’s sake, I thought for a good six months that your name was _Old Sport!_”

With that, the two of them burst into delirious, euphoric giggles for which neither of them knew the cause or the cure. Nor did they want to stop. They just kept laughing and laughing at nothing and everything as they drove down the endless Nevada roads.

The alien made a series of confused sounds. Jay, in his euphoria, burst into further laughter at the noise, and Nick giggled at Jay’s giggling, which only caused the alien to make more confused sounds, which caused more giggling. It was a feedback loop of happiness, if the strange, detached kind, and Nick wanted it to last forever.

Suddenly, Jay stopped giggling and sat bolt upright. “That’s it!” he exclaimed. “Our alien’s name will be…Old Sport!”

And just like that, the loop was broken.

The alien emitted a sequence of noises that seemed to convey vague protest. Jay patted it on the head and continued driving cheerfully, some of the residual laughter seeming to still be floating within him.

Nick frowned. “So I’m not your old sport anymore, huh?”

“Well, no, wait, that’s not what I meant—“ Jay began.

“I think that’s _exactly_ what you meant, Jay,” Nick said, crossing his arms.

“Darling…” Jay pleaded, looking flustered.

“Nope,” said Nick, and turned away from Jay to look out the window angstily.

The alien let out a rapid-fire string of distressed-sounding noises.

Nick gestured to it. “See, it just said ‘Nick is the only true Old Sport’ in Alien-Speak,” he informed Jay, ignoring the alien’s subsequent whines of protest.

“Nick, darling…” Jay sighed.

“_Will you still love me when I am no longer young and beautiful…_” came an anonymous, disembodied woman’s singing voice from behind them.

Jay’s grip tightened on the wheel. “That’s strange, old sport—“

“Which ‘old sport’ do you mean?” Nick asked bitterly.

“—I thought I just heard someone singing.”

“I did too,” Nick said, furrowing his brow, momentarily forgetting any matters of old sports. “And the voice sounded so familiar.”

“_Will you still love me when I’ve got nothing but my aching soul…_”

“Daisy?!” Jay choked out, nearly swerving off the road. Nick reflexively threw a protective arm over him and the alien, who was making high, frightened sounds. His mind could barely begin to process what was happening.

Daisy popped up from the backseat of the car. “Hi!”

“What are you doing here?!” demanded Nick.

“I heard you boys were raiding Area 51,” she said lightly. “And I simply _had_ to see the adorable alien you picked up!”

The alien—whom Nick absolutely refused to refer to as Old Sport—made a small indignant noise.

“Jordan told us you weren’t interested!” Jay sputtered.

Daisy shrugged. “Not in the raid itself. That Nevada sun would wreak havoc on my complexion.” She touched a hand to her soft, fair cheek, as if to prove her point.

Nick sighed loudly and frustratedly. “Dear God.” He raised his voice—“If there’s anyone else hiding in our car without our knowledge, please feel free to reveal yourselves now!”

“Hi!” came another voice, as a man popped up from the backseat next to Daisy.

Jay, Nick, and the alien—speaking in Alien-Speak—shouted in unison, “GO AWAY, WOLFSHEIM!!!”

**Author's Note:**

> As promised, some more stuff that inspired this fic:
> 
> [This](https://the-jay-gaytsby.tumblr.com/post/186303882864/someone-write-this-into-a-ficlet-1010-would) reblog of ask-the-great-gatsby's original post, and [this](https://nostalgicbluehydrangea.tumblr.com/post/186474661242/gatsby-on-his-way-home-from-area-51-with-his-new) subsequent post.
> 
> Jordan naming the alien Mitochondria was inspired by Gina Linetti's list of baby names from Brooklyn Nine-Nine; the text of that list can be found [here](https://holt-cozner.tumblr.com/post/161174266449/ginas-baby-names-source-i-made-a-list-of-them).
> 
> The Karens and Kyles and Naruto-runners and rock-throwers are, of course, inspired by [this](https://pics.me.me/area-51-sept-20th-2019-attack-plan-kyles-monster-60306927.png) plan of attack (sorry, I couldn't find an image that was better-quality and didn't have the annoying me.me text underneath).
> 
> And Nick's full name just being Nick instead of Nicholas was inspired by [this](https://nickcarrawaysuggestions.tumblr.com/post/176179279694/do-you-think-gatsby-would-get-on-one-knee-and-say) Tumblr post.
> 
> Thanks for reading, old sports!


End file.
